


Rising

by estriel



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, Emotional Baggage, F/M, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Smut, Psychology, Reader-Insert-but-not-really, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-30 01:42:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19032163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estriel/pseuds/estriel
Summary: You can see the monsters lurking beneath the composed exterior, the sorrow, the pain of too many a lonely night. After a moment of silence, Yuzu shrugs, and you recognize it for what it is. An opening, a capitulation, a gate being unbarred after torturous months of bitter resistance.





	Rising

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be an attempt at a reader-insert fic that I have been challenged to write. It technically is, but isn't really - you'll notice why once you get to the end.
> 
> Gender-neutral, so you can, in theory, twist this whichever way your mind pleases.

 

"Are you okay?" you ask him when he steps off the ice and into the darkness of the backstage corridor. Wild cheers are still rippling through the air, but as you stand there facing him, it is as if a thick veil of silence suddenly descended upon the world. He's always had this effect on you, as if his presence could evanesce everything around you, as if you and him were the only two people in existence.

 

He towers over you in his skates, even though you are technically the same height as him. He seems larger than life, even without the spotlights. A god of staggering, terrifying beauty - or rather, a demon. The dark eyes looking at you are haunted, and you wonder if somehow you, too, have contributed to the turmoil.

 

"Yes," he says quietly, the loud passion of the Phantom having been left behind on the ice. He makes as if to side step-you but you catch his wrist, the one he has bared in his grand closing gesture. The glare he gives you could incinerate forests and cities, but you are used to it after all these years, and you do not flinch.

 

"Are you sure?" you inquire, well aware of the wild fluttering of heartbeat where your thumb rests against the sensitive skin of his inner wrist.

 

Yuzu takes a deep, slow breath, his nostrils flaring. You realize it is a dangerous game you're playing, but you know Yuzu. You can see the monsters lurking beneath the composed exterior, the sorrow, the pain of too many a lonely night. After a moment of silence, Yuzu shrugs, and you recognize it for what it is. An opening, a capitulation, a gate being unbarred after torturous months of bitter resistance.

 

The walls he has erected around himself begin to crumble and suddenly he stands in front of you unadorned. Rage, fear, doubt. The emotions flash across his features almost too fast to catch. Sadness and pain so profound it almost makes you recoil. Instead, though, you pull him closer. Heat emanates off him in waves and his forehead is burning when he drops it into the crook of your neck. He inhales your scent.

 

You only have time to smooth your palm down his back - once, twice, three times - before one of the crew comes at you, explaining in a panicked blend of Japanese and English that it is time to don the costumes for the final number.

 

"Later," you whisper against the side of his face just before he lifts his head, and leaves.

 

*

 

'Later' is when you are both leaving the venue and he slips a keycard into your palm, muttering a number so quietly you have to strain to catch it.

 

'Later' is when you sneak into his hotel room, glancing this way and that to make sure the brightly-lit corridor is empty before you do so.

 

'Later' is when he looks up from the book he is reading on the bed, his face looking infinitely younger beneath the dorky glasses and the mop of shower-damp hair than it had during his performance.

 

He sets the book aside and fixes you with his eyes. You can feel his look upon you like a physical caress, sliding down your body, reawakening both the desire to carry him in your arms like the precious gift he is, and the need to make him your own once again.

 

"You're not alright," you say. It is not a question.

 

"I will be," Yuzu tells you and gives a small smile. Instinctively, you know this is not a lie. He will be, this brave man who has faced some of the darkest echoes of his past tonight, dragging them out into the open so they could burn under the red glare of the spotlights.

 

He takes off his glasses, takes off his t-shirt, slides out of his comfortable pajama bottoms until he is seated on the bed naked, his feet resting on the plush carpeting on the floor.

 

He doesn't need words and neither do you - you never really did around him. You understand perfectly just what he is asking, what he is offering. He is resplendent in his nakedness, stronger than you have ever seen him, despite - or because of - the bruises and scars both visible and invisible. You take off your clothes and he watches you, as if he was cataloguing the changes the past several months have written on your body.

 

You kneel in front of him, bending down to kiss each ankle in turn, caressing the sinewy calves with the tips of your fingers.

 

He sighs as your hands travel up his legs, and opens his thighs for you, eyes fluttering closed. You are not sure whether it is a conscious move or pure instinct, but it doesn’t really matter, as long as he is letting you in. You trail kisses along his muscular inner thighs, marveling at the way he shivers when you reacquaint yourself with his sensitive spots.

 

You shower him in adoration, the way he deserves, taking him into your mouth until he whimpers and clutches your hair in a grip that is borderline painful.

 

When he lets himself fall down against the bed, pulling his knees up to his chest, you worship him with your tongue, tasting all the secret recesses of his body.

 

"I missed you," he breathes and it becomes a litany, a prayer raining mindlessly from his mouth. _I missed you I missed you I missed you_.

 

 _You will never miss me again_ , you think as you breach him with your fingers and curl them just the way he likes. His body tightens, a quivering bowstring pulled so tight you're afraid it might break.

 

You let him impale himself on your fingers and he chases after his satisfaction with wild abandon, mouth hanging slack and his small nipples hardened to the point of aching as you suck at them.

 

A hoarse cry erupts from deep inside him, too soon, before you expected it; you were not even stroking him like you usually would be to lure him towards ecstasy. He convulses and paints his belly with silvery strings of come, spasming around your fingers in his undoing.

 

There are tears in his eyes and he tries to hide them again, shielding himself with his hands. You grab his wrists, ready to fight him, but he slackens in your grip. The tears start rolling down his cheeks and he lets you kiss them away.

 

Blood, sweat, tears - you've shared them all with him, been there for his triumphs and his downfalls. It is only right that you are here now for this catharsis, to witness the fire that has burned away all weakness to give wings to the phoenix within.

 

You've never been sure if he knows that you have always been - will always be there to carry him through. But as you look at him now, you realize he doesn't need you anymore.

 

"You are the King," you whisper in awe, suddenly overwhelmed by this new chapter unfurling in front of him, while yours seems to have ended. "The champion." It will be your parting gift, the reaffirmation of everything you've always wanted him to believe every step of the way.

 

He wipes away the remnants of his tears and meets your eyes, steady and sure once again. But this time, the solidity is not a wall but a bridge.

 

"In your heart, too?" he asks, a small hesitant smile rising on his lips.

 

You feel something deep inside you unclench, the terrifying claws that have held you captive for months releasing their icy grip at last.

 

"Always," you whisper. "In my heart, you will always be the champion." With that, you lean down and claim his mouth, the way he has claimed your heart - so many years ago, and now again, and forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? Hated it? I love feedback! :)


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